cock.

“I’m afraid my poor old brain doesn’t allow me to concentrate on two equally exciting things

at the same time and I hunger for your cock. Please, Danny?”

“I’m all yours.” There’s proud surrender in his lover’s voice, next to all-out need and want.

Leaning on his side, Steve takes his time to look, just look, taking in the details of nuances of

colours and veins and the dripping down of pre-come; the slit widening to a tiny circle. When his eyes

have had their fill, he uses the tip of one finger to touch, slowly following the line of a vein, the

journey of a sticky drop. He’s close enough to be fully aware of the scent: this wondrous, delicate

balance between the best and the worst.

Only then does he allow himself a first taste.

Daniël makes an almost startled sound. But he doesn’t move a muscle.

He takes the head in his mouth, sucking as gently as he’s able to.

Daniël doesn’t tell him what to do, even though the tension in his body crackles the air with

electricity, his fingers clawing the rumpled sheets. Sweet, caring boy; trying not to intimidate his

lover with the force of his sexual need.

Steve retracts, then moves down, down until he can’t go any lower even when he’s willing to.

He goes up again, his lips and his tongue savouring every slow second.

He used to do this with wild abandon; sloppy and aggressive. He used to do this with aching

tenderness. He used to do this with methodical precision. He used to do this so often the taste became

the taste of almost every day. He tried to make it the start of the day, the end of the day.

The taste of his lover and the scent of his lover. Lingering through the days.

Falling on his knees in the kitchen. “Keep doing whatever you’re doing.” Afterwards, the taste

of food and the taste of his lover on his tongue.

He brings two of his fingers in the direction of Daniël’s mouth. The boy understands and starts

to lick and suck. He even changes the position of his legs slightly to give better access without Steve

having to ask him.

Steve places the fingers against Daniël’s opening, presses them in, while at the same time he

starts sucking the head with as much force as he’s able to.

Daniël tastes like sweet memories, like salty tears, like bitter anger.

And Steve drinks it all.

Chapter 22

The morning of the press conference, right after waking up, Steve manoeuvres Daniël gently

on top of him. Daniël is more than happy to oblige and for a few minutes, they enjoy lazy kisses and

brave smiles.

They don’t feel an urgent need to talk about their nervousness of the upcoming event, but

neither do they have any reason to avoid the subject while drinking coffee and eating rolls with

strawberry jam.

“We don’t have to say anything we don’t want to say. But we can’t stop them from asking

questions that will hurt you,” Daniël says. “And to think it’s not their business anyway.”

“At least I can look them in the face, give my honest answer, and have you and the gaffer and

the skipper sitting next to me. I can’t make anyone believe me, but that’s not really my concern.”

Steve knows he sounds much calmer than he actually feels because in some way, he does want those

others to believe him. He doesn’t want anyone, not even those whose opinion he doesn’t particularly

value, to doubt or dirty his love for Daniël or his unwillingness to hurt his boy for some meaningless

pleasure.

“They will try to make you remember. To talk about the men who did this to you. About the

way you talk, about how you still can’t walk properly. About the matches you’ll never play again.

About the players who feel embarrassed by us, the managers who’ll have to deal with it. About the

fans: the many who stand by us, defending us, and about the other ones. Hell, almost any gay man in

the world thinking we can mean something for them, and to be honest, I don’t want us to be anyone’s

spokesperson. Right now, I can’t even pretend I care. It’s not our battle because we have our own to

fight.”

“I get reminded every day. I don’t even have to think about it.” Steve takes Daniël’s hand in

his own. “I just wish it could be just the two of us. But, who knows, after a while people might get less

curious about us.”

“I’m sure it will help if I’ll end my professional career,” Daniël offers sincerely.

Steve shakes his head. “Please, no. I saw you running, having fun with the others, trying to see

if you’re still good enough for a place in the first team. It made me so happy. Degaré is eager to give

you a chance. He knows a good thing when he sees it and he wants to keep it for as long as possible.”

Daniël stands up from his chair and kneels at Steve’s feet. Resting his head against his lover’s

thigh, he starts to talk. “I can’t help wanting to see how good I still am. I don’t want to walk away

without having tried. Even if I don’t care all that much any more if this club, or any club for that

matter, is still interested in me. Even though I know I’ll have to work twice as hard as the other guys

to be seen as half as good, I want to play football.”

Almost without thought, but aware of the tenderness seeping from the tips of his fingers, Steve

caresses Daniël’s hair. “Then give yourself that chance.” He sighs. “Perhaps they have a right to their

questions; all of them, in their own way. It must be important for people to hear certain things from

me, from us. The lads took some horrible flak for what happened. I bet Arnaud Degaré didn’t even tell

half of it to spare me. Nothing to do with them, but you know how these things work. As long as we

keep in mind in the end, it’s you and me. Just love. That’s the simple truth of it.”

Daniël gets up from his knees. “Can we make love before we go? We still have a few hours. I

guess enough to have sex, give you about an hour of rest, take a shower and get to the Graces in time.”

Steve agrees that all the words in the dictionary will do nothing for them at this moment.

There’s no need to agree on every single thing they’ll say at the press conference. They won’t agree on

every single thing and they’re free to do so. There are no secrets to hide, just private things they like

to keep private. But a smile and a joke should be enough for that. Painful, embarrassed silences are no

longer part of their vocabulary.

So Daniël supports Steve to the bedroom to undress him and then undress himself. For as long

as he feels like, he kisses and touches every nook and cranny of his lover’s body. Steve understands all

too well how the boy is rediscovering over and over again what is still so much a miracle to both of

them.

Steve moans when Daniël takes his cock in his mouth and swirls the head with his tongue.

“This feels so good; I’m not sure how much longer I can stop myself from coming.”

One last, lingering lick and Daniël looks up. “We could try it sideways, with you behind me.

It’s easy and gentle too. Not totally sure about having to bend one of your legs, though. We never used

this position when we still...did we?”

“Don’t think so. Any other time, I would love to try, but not right now. I need to see your face,

your eyes, when I’m inside you. I want to remember how you looked at me when they’ll be asking

their questions.”

Daniël nods his understanding, gets lube and pillows. He makes sure Steve is sitting

comfortably and prepares himself.

“Like we did on that chair.”

“Yes.” Daniël positions himself, holding Steve’s erection at the base, stabilising it enough to